


Pigeon’s Raptor Center and Hatchery

by AfternoonPigeon (DogEaredScribe)



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: AU, Agender Character, Alternate Universe: Modern, Autistic Character, Human POV, I don't mean the human and the dragon, I mean the two humans, I should just stop typing now, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Other, Period-Typical Prejudices, Racist Language, ablism, but animals all the same, can be read as romance between the main characters if you want to, dragons are just animals in this, hatchery lore, humans exist, just basically stupid people being stupid, non FR lore compatible, not really - Freeform, really really cool animals, some minor gore, wow this is a lot deeper than it was supposed to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:51:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DogEaredScribe/pseuds/AfternoonPigeon
Summary: This was supposed to be a fun 5 paragraph thing for the intro to my hatchery on Flight Rising. Now it’s going to be 9 chapters, plus an epilogue. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	1. When I Found You

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick story for fun. There's no beta, and I'm mostly doing this as something to pass the time, so there might be some errors here and there. Sorry in advance!
> 
> Disclaimer: Pidge and I are NOT the same person. I intentionally named them after my username, since it's the same as the one I use on FR, but that's it. They are not a self insert or meant to represent me in any way.

In a small house skirting the edges of the nearest town lived a human named Pidge, who carried on an existence not unlike that of their neighbors’, and their neighbors’ neighbors, and their neighbors’ in turn. A repeating pattern of wake, work, eat, and sleep, with very little to brighten their humdrum lives. Pidge’s only escape was the weekends, when they would go and hike the nearby mountains, burying themself deep within the ancient pines and moss covered oaks until the trail was not a trail any longer, merely a line between plants brushed aside by passing bodies that were just as likely animal as they were human. 

And then, one day, Pidge found something fascinating. A nest, ravaged by some earthy predator, with one lone egg still intact. With black scales wet with the viscera of its gored siblings, shimmering blue in the low light, the entire thing was easily the size of Pidge’s head. A dragon’s egg.

Pidge knew of dragons, of course, had seen them fly overhead, had watched the older generations arm themselves to go on a hunt for those unlucky enough to stray too close to human habitat. But they had never seen their eggs but for photographs in books.

Still, it was obvious what it was, and more obvious that it was doomed. Pidge knew enough about dragons to know that the mother would likely not return to her ravaged nest and, even if she did, the egg would still likely die the next time she left now that the nest had been uncovered once. This creature, alive and so fragile, might have escaped the attack, but it would not survive for long.

Unless… But, no, that was absurd. Ridiculous. For one, keeping a dragon was illegal without a great myriad of licences and papers. For another, what did Pidge know of raising a dragon hatchling? They could barely stand to be around human babies! 

But, in the end, they couldn’t just do nothing. Bundling the egg up into their jumper for warmth and protection, Pidge gently settled it into their bag, then turned to hike home, shivering from both cold and anticipation. 


	2. When We Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These babies have no clue what they're getting into.

The egg hatched within a fortnight. Settled in a nest of blankets and wrapped in Pidge’s jumper, warmed by three heat lamps when Pidge was away, or held to their chest or on their lap when they were home, the egg was kept warm and safe, and it was early morning when the soft tapping drew Pidge out of their book. Gaping a moment down at the egg in their lap, Pidge bolted for the bathroom, where they had set down some soft cloths in the tub in preparation for this very moment. 

It took an hour for the creature to break itself entirely free of the egg, and Pidge’s fingers twisted in their lap as they forced themselves not to help. Only once the young dragon was panting, flopped out on its side on the pile of soft rags did Pidge lean forward, reaching out to gently pull away the shards of shell still sticking to the dragon’s skin.

“H-hello,” they murmured as they worked, timid at first, then relaxing as the dragon merely responded to their touch by looking at them over its shoulder, blinking slowly and shuffling. “Hello there, little one. Oh, but you are beautiful, aren’t you?”

It was true. The dragon had black skin accented with a blue so pale and bright that it seemed to shine, and wide, deep violet eyes. The little creature kicked and squirmed, rolling over onto its back -- a female, Pidge realized -- and then back onto its side, this time facing towards the human. Pidge swallowed slightly as they took note of the claws, already as long as their own pinky and curved into deadly scythes on the newborn’s back feet. 

“Well,” Pidge muttered, biting their lip and pulling their hands back a bit. “You’re a, a wildclaw, then.” A volatile and dangerous breed -- though, to humans, all dragons were -- wildclaws were as quick on the ground as they were in the air, and their hind claws served as both weapon and hook with which to grip onto their prey. 

Displeased with the sudden lack of attention, the small dragon rolled onto her belly, then lifted up on shaking hind legs, having to set her forepaws on the ground a few times before she was stable, and then promptly stumbled her way to the edge of the tub, raising up to set her chin upon the white porcelain with an unhappy shriek that had Pidge reaching in to calm her instantly, lest she wake the neighbors. 

“Well,” they said. “At least you seem healthy.” Reaching behind themself, Pidge pulled a plastic container from the countertop, opening the lid to reveal crumbling dirt and slimy earthworms. Grimacing, they pulled one of the wriggling bodies free, and held it out towards the dragon. 

She simply stared.

“Well?” Pidge frowned. “Go on then. All the books say this is what you’re suppose to eat!”

The youngling cocked her head, confused.

“Oh, gods,” Pidge groaned. “I’m not going to show you! Just eat it!” They nudged the worm against the dragon’s mouth, and murmured, “thank the gods,” as she finally opened up to take it, though the human yelped a second later as her sharp little hatchling teeth scraped at their fingers.

Once the rest of the worms were gone, Pidge sat down on the tile, one arm draped over the edge of the tub, hand sweeping lazily over the young dragon’s back as she curled up to sleep off her meal. “Well then,” Pidge wondered aloud. “What to call you?"


	3. When We Wandered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the woods and down the road

“Blue! Blue Arsenic, you get your tail down here right this instant!”

Pidge had never expected to hear themself repeating the lines their mother had used so often, and yet here they were, using nearly the exact same phrases on a month old Wildclaw. 

“Blue! Stop chasing that poor thing and come down here!” 

Pidge had intended to name her Arsenic, after the raptor character in one of their favorite comics, but had spent the first few days before they had decided to do so simply calling her Blue, and it had stuck, resulting in a full name and call name not unlike horses tended to have. Blue seemed to like the name, perking her head up and even coming when she was called. Usually. 

Pidge leaned their head back, shielding their eyes as they watched Blue scrabbling at the tree branches, bounding between them as she followed after a poor, hapless squirrel that had caught her attention. Between each branch, she spread her wings, using them to glide from one tree to the next, but Pidge had yet to see her fly and was growing worried. 

Easily the size of a large dog now, Blue was growing about as quickly as the books said she should, but she still hadn’t even tried to start the little bouncing flaps that would strengthen her wings for proper flight. Was it still too early? Did she need parents around to teach her? Would she ever be able to be released back into this forest, as Pidge intended?

Drawn out of their musings by a gust of wind, Pidge yelped and ducked as Blue glided overhead, barely missing landing on their shoulders; she had done that a few times when she was smaller, but she was much too heavy now and Pidge found themself having to be on constant alert around her lest she use them as a perch and topple them both to the ground. Grimacing at the sight of the fluffy tail protruding from the dragon’s mouth, Pidge clipped the chain leash onto her baby blue harness and began to lead her out. 

They had started taking trips in the evenings out to the forests, keeping off path to avoid other humans. Blue was an able hunter now, but she still didn’t fly; Pidge both dreaded and looking forward to the day she learned and could then be released. 

The lights were on inside Pidge’s house when they drove into the garage. Turning in their seat, Pidge gestured for Blue to stay put. “I’ll be right back,” they assured, and closed the garage door behind themself. Hopefully they had simply forgotten to turn off the lights as they left, but the pit in Pidge’s stomach told them that this was something else. Someone was in their house. 


	4. When We Were Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Michael!

The back door creaked as Pidge pushed it open. They winced, waited, then slowly crept further. The kitchen was dark, light spilling through the archway that led to their sitting room, and Pidge peered tentatively  around the edge. Nothing seemed out of place. The same desk and computer against the side wall, the same old tartan sofa, tv with the screen now cracked in the upper left corner, coffee table overflowing with books and half empty mugs of cold tea. Nothing seemed different, and Pidge was just standing straight with a slow breath of relief when sudden pounding footfalls on the stairs to their left startled their heart right back into their throat. 

“Pigeon!” They were still trying to gather their wits when a heavy arm was slung about their neck, their entire body following after as they were hauled into a broad chest. “I haven’t heard from you in forever!”

“Michael?” Pidge shoved their hands against the person’s chest, pulling back just enough to peer up into the round face and crinkled eyes of their old schoolfriend. 

“Who else would it be?” Michael asked, and Pidge gave a sheepish grin, not wanting to admit to the list of people it could have been. Police, park servicemen, black market dragon traders, among any number of others. It really wasn’t a nice list, and certainly not something Pidge intended to share. 

“What is all this?” Michael asked, drawing away to gesture at the books thrown about the room. Picking up a few, he listed, “The Encyclopedia of Western Dragons? Advanced Dragonology? Tooth and Claw: a Guide to Dragon Behavior!?” Raising an eyebrow, Michael added, “I know you tend to sink yourself into anything that catches your interest, but isn’t this a little much? You haven’t been at work in a week! Don’t tell me you’ve just been here, reading all these?” 

“Well, not exactly.” Pidge shrugged. “I’ve been hiking.”

“Hiking?” Michael frowned, shaking his head. “Dude, I can’t keep covering for you with Old Man Johnson so you can read and go hiking. You’re going to lose your job. He told me to tell you, ‘if you’re not here Monday, consider yourself unemployed.’ His words, not mine.” 

Raking their hands through their hair, pulling a few brown curls free from the elastic band at the base of their neck in the process, Pidge groaned and dropped onto the sofa. “I know, I know.” Pulling a book out from under themself, they tossed it among the others on the coffee table, then swore as the whole mound shifted and knocked a mug onto the carpet, cold Earl Grey soaking quickly into the fibers. Jolting forward, Pidge scrambled to pick it up and find something to clean it with, Michael quickly crouching down to help, finding and passing over a half-shredded roll of paper towels. 

“What happened to that?” he asked. “You have mice or something? I always tell you that’ll happen if you keep leaving food out.”

“I don’t leave  _ food _ ,” Pidge insisted. “Just, just tea. Sometimes. Only when I forget!”

“You forget a lot.”

Rolling their eyes, Pidge sopped up the mess, then fell back to lean against the base of the sofa. 

They were silent for a moment before Michael spoke. “Alright,” he said. “Give it up. Something’s going on and I want to know what.”

“Nothing’s going on.” Pidge stood suddenly and began to clean, moving books into piles and collecting the mugs to carry into the kitchen. 

Michael followed on their heel, his own arms laden with novelty mugs and white plastic spoons. “Seriously?” he asked. “I know you.”

“Exactly!” Pidge tried, dumping the mugs into the sink, then moving out the the way for Mike to do the same, leaning back on their arms on the counter edge. “You know how I get all…wrapped up in things. I just, I just saw a, a nest. A dragon’s nest. That’s all. When I was hiking. I got…curious.” 

“Right.” Michael frowned, eyebrows furrowing. “Okay. If that’s really all it was.” He didn’t have much reason to doubt Pidge; this wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened. 

“That’s all,” Pidge swore. 

Still frowning, Michael gave a short nod, then turned to leave, only for both of them to freeze. There was a sharp scratching noise at the back door, claws over mesh screen, and Pidge’s stomach dropped. 

“What’s that?” Pidge tried to get there first, but Michael was closer and there was nothing they could do as he pulled open the door and stumbled back in shock, mouth open in words and sentences he aborted half way through. 

Somehow, Blue had managed to get out of the car, out of the garage, and was halfway through scratching her way through the back door. Her dexterous front paws hooked and scraped at the screen, ripping little holes in the mesh; she froze, holding onto the rips like a human clinging to a chain link fence when the main door swung in to reveal an unfamiliar human. 

Pidge was the first to shake themself from the shock, and they stepped forward, kneeling down and pushing Blue’s claws out of the screen. “Blue Arsenic!” they scolded. “Bad girl! Look at this! You’re going to let bugs in!” Blue chittered and shuffled back on the landing, nearly slipping down onto the first step as Pidge opened the door and stepped out. “Bad!” they said again, flicking her on the snout before hooking a finger through the ring on the front of the harness and guiding her inside. 

Michael was on the other side of the kitchen table now, hands clutching the back of a wooden chair. “Why,” he asked, “is there a dragon trying to get into your house? And why is it wearing a dog harness!?”   


“Michael,” Pidge answered with all the calm and patience they could gather; their voice still shook slightly, but it was better than they had expected. “This is Blue Arsenic. Blue, meet my best friend, Michael.”


	5. When Things Were Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promises, promises.

Things could have gone worse, at least. Could have gone better, too, but that wasn’t what Pidge was focused on. There were three things they had dreaded above all else -- Michael turning them in; Michael thinking they were insane; and bloodshed -- and none of them had happened. 

Well, okay, Michael thought they were a kinda nuts. 

And alright, Blue had drawn a little blood when she had nipped curiously at the man’s fingers. 

But he wasn’t turning them in. That much Pidge felt sure in as they watched out the window as Michael walked away, headed to his own house two blocks down the road. The sun had long since set, and the sight of his friend disappearing into the lamplight was a familiar one. Even back in high school, Michael had invited himself over for dinner at the Pigeon household and stayed into the night, spending the late hours hanging halfway off the bed, showing Pidge pictures and videos on his cell as Pidge tried to reach the required word count on his latest school essay or blog submission, remaining there well after Pidge’s parents fell asleep. 

It had been on those nights that so many things had come to light. That Pidge had come out to their friend, had explained the truths behind autism and what it meant to be agender. That Michael had admitted to the fact that he was thinking of quitting football for drama, and told Pidge about the men at the corner store who called him a dirty Sanchez and a dampback, even though his mother was from Puerto Rico. 

It seemed to Pidge that the daylight merely got in people’s eyes, and it was only with the fall of dusk when one had to speak in hushed voices for fear of waking someone that they could find the words to speak at all. 

Knowing their secret was safe, Pidge turned away from the window and crouched down, getting their arms under Blue’s forelegs and pressing their face into the side of the dragon’s neck in a mimicry of a hug. Indeed, the dragon seemed almost to understand, gently curling her clawed hands into the back of their shirt and rubbing her face against them in turn until the side of Pidge’s neck started to feel raw from the scrape of her scales. “We’re alright, girl,” Pidge breathed. “Everything is gonna be alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like this story? Message me about commissions! 
> 
> AfternoonPigeon@gmail.com OR AfternoonPigeon on FR!


End file.
